Tom and Sybil (deceased)
by Syblime
Summary: Written for the S/T rock the AU Paranormal. Sybil comes back after her funeral to talk to Tom. Follows the plot of the first episode of Randall and Hopkirk (My Late Lamented Friend and Partner) but should make sense to S/T fans who haven't seen the programme.


Written as part of the Sybil and Tom Rock the AU Paranormal edition, so hopefully S/T fans will be able to follow the story without any knowlegde of Randall and Hopkirk.

Yes, it's another crossover! So, as usual, I don't own any of it. Unbeta'd.

Enjoy. :)

* * *

It had been a long week. Perhaps the longest of Tom's life, leaving him feeling hollow. They'd had the funeral today. After so many years waiting, it seemed criminal that it should end like this. Everyone had been there; so many people wanting to pay their respects to the Crawley's, yet he was still treated by some with suspicion. The rest of the day had passed in a blur and while Tom had eaten with the family, he was looking forward to some solitude. He checked on Sybbie, who was sleeping peacefully, before going to their room. He often imagined Sybil to be sitting at her dressing table or on the bed, and tonight was no exception. Usually the image would disappear almost immediately, but today she seemed to be lingering. Perhaps because of the funeral.

"Tom! I wondered when you'd come up!" She walked over, smiling at him.

"Sybil? You're… you're not dead?!" He stuttered. She'd never spoken to him before.

"Of course I'm dead. Tom, please, I just wanted to talk to you." She said plainly.

He turned away from her then. "This isn't happening. I'm imagining this. I'll wake up in a minute, I know I will."

"Tom." She giggled. "You are awake."

"Then let me touch you?" He asked, whirling round again.

"No, no." She said, backing up. "You'd better not."

"Why not?"

"Well, you're scared enough as it is. You're hand will go right through me. And don't give me that look, Tom Branson. I can tell that you're scared. How's Sybbie?" She asked, changing the subject. "I looked in on her, but she was sleeping."

"You looked in on her?" Tom repeated, incredulously.

"Don't worry. She won't see me. Nobody will. You're the only one, Tom. I chose you. I would have loved to have chosen her, but she wouldn't have understood." Sybil paused. "I still can't believe you named her after me! I thought we agreed on Saoirse for a girl."

"I…"

"Oh, Tom. Pull yourself together. It's only me!" She chided gently.

"But it's not you, is it."

"Yes it is. Just in… spirit form." She finished, triumphantly.

"So you're a ghost?" Tom was still trying to get his mind round this strange, nightly encounter.

"I suppose I am really." She laughed again. "I can haunt Granny! And that idiot doctor. I've been thinking over what he said. It was all wrong. Goodness knows what papa was thinking when he hired him. But now, we can get vengeance!" She was suddenly determined.

"We? How can I help? Surely you have better… connections." He gestured upwards, awkwardly.

"No, I haven't reported yet. I mean, once I do, that's the end. There's no coming back. So, how is everyone?"

"Sad. You meant so much to everyone, Syb." They were interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Tom, it's Mary. May I come in?" He went over and opened the door. "I heard you talking. Is everything alright?"

Tom looked over at Sybil. "She can't see or hear me. I told you, Tom, you're the only one."

"Tom, what's the matter?" Mary asked again.

"Nothing. I'm fine Mary, just a bit tired, that's all." Tom finally offered.

"Oh. I guess we all are today. Goodnight Tom."

"Goodnight." He shut the door after her and waited. "That was a close one. Your family are already struggling to know what to do with me. If she'd caught me talking to myself, they'd have me locked up for certain."

"Oh, Tom, stop worrying." Sybil tried to reassure him. "I'd better let you get some rest."

"No! Stay." He begged.

"You need sleep. And I can't be here in daylight."

"Why not?"

"Before the sun shall rise anew, each ghost unto his grave must go." She quoted. "Although, why it has to be 'his' grave, I don't know!"

Tom smiled. "Always my suffragette. But you said daylight?"

"Yes."

"So, we've still got all night?" He asked suggestively.

"Tom! You're tired. I'll come back tomorrow. Goodnight." And with that she was gone.

~X~

Tom woke up with a start. As he sat, listening to the clock ticking, thoughts of the previous evening slowly drifted back to him. Sybil. Had he invented her, or had she actually been there. In their room. Joking with him, like she always had done. He had no way to be sure.

He greeted Robert cordially when he joined the older man for breakfast, but his mind wasn't focused. He was vaguely aware of Robert talking to him, but he was unable to process it. Throughout the day, everyone ended up repeating themselves three times before he heard what they'd said and finally answered and by the evening Mary and Cora were considering sending for Doctor Clarkson. He assured them that wasn't necessary and tried to concentrate more for the rest of dinner. He stayed focused to talk with Matthew and Robert, but as they joined the ladies in the drawing room, his thoughts wandered back to Sybil.

"Tom, why don't you get some rest?" Edith suggested after he'd failed to respond yet again.

"I…" He began to protest, but gave in on the premise that Sybil might be waiting for him. "Yes, that might be a good idea. Goodnight Edith."

~X~

She was there. Just as she'd promised. The urge to hug her, to hold her to him was frustrating Tom to the extreme. Having his wife back and not being able to touch her was like torture. But she was back, in a sense, and that was what mattered. They talked for a long time about their daughter and the rest of the family before Tom turned the conversation to her.

"So what is it like?" Tom asked.

"What is what like?"

"You know. Being a ghost. Gliding through walls and so on."

"Gliding through walls? Oh Tom, your imagination!" Sybil laughed.

"What kind of a ghost are you if you can't glide through a wall? Try at least." His tone was teasing, but Sybil knew he was serious. She eyed the wall warily before slowly walking into it, but not going through. "I should imagine you have to believe you can really do it." Tom suggested, trying not to laugh at the look of concentration on her face. She tried again, taking more of a run up this time. Again, she stayed in the room.

"Useless."

"Sybil, love look at me." Tom's eyes were dark and he walked slowly and purposefully towards her. Her gaze locked on his, she stepped backwards away from him. They continued for a few paces, until Sybil could no longer look into her husband's eyes, a wall of deep red wallpaper between them.

"I did it!" She squealed excitedly. She walked forward again, only to find she couldn't get back. "Oh." She frowned at the wall, then tuned around, shut her eyes and imagined Tom staring at her as she walked backwards. When she reopened her eyes, she was back in their bedroom.

"You're incredible." Tom stated. The love and sincerity in his voice would have made Sybil blush, if she were still alive. "So, are you free to do what you want?"

"Pretty much. Other than being out in daylight and only appearing to one person there aren't any rules or anything." She told him.

"Why can't you stay out in daylight?" He questioned.

"The rhyme. 'Curse the ghost who dares to stay and face the awful light of day.'"

"Never stopped you before."

"Tom Branson! What are you implying?" She asked in mock offense.

"That telling you not to go to political rallies or not to marry the chauffeur didn't have much effect, so why does this?"

"I was never risking being cursed! But talking of politics, what's been happening in the news? Tell me?"

The couple spent the rest of the night discussing current affairs. Tom still had a couple of newspapers in the room, which he read to Sybil, sparking a number of debates between them. In the early hours of the morning, Tom dozed off, and Sybil was content to sit and watch him. It was only when she heard movement outside their door that she looked over at the clock.

"Tom!"

"Mmm?" He moaned, sleepily.

"Tom, I have to leave! The sun will be up in a second!"

He groaned again, still barely awake. Sybil sighed, and reluctantly left for her grave.

It was a race against time. She appeared at the graveyard quickly enough, but the sun was already coming up. She sat on the fresh earth and waited to be absorbed into the darkness. She sat watching the yellows and blues flirting in the sky. Normally she'd have gone by now. She frowned at the grave.

"Oh, come on. Let me in!" But looking back up at the sky, she knew it was too late. "Bother!" She sat contemplatively, trying to remember the rest of the rhyme, and thus the fate she had been condemned to. Her mother came by and stopped at the grave at some point late in the morning. Sybil found it odd, sitting in front of her mother as she grieved, so she went and sat on a nearby bench. She sighed, as Cora walked over and almost sat on top of her.

"Oh, Sybil, I miss you." Cora whispered.

"I miss you too mama, but…" Her eyes went wide as she realised. "I've remembered it!" She got up in a flurry, causing a breeze which made Cora look round, and directly at, or rather through, her daughter. "Sorry mama, I have to find Tom!"

She tried their bedroom first, although it was unlikely he'd be in there at this time of day. Then she went to the nursery, and stayed far too long, mesmerised by her own tiny daughter. It was only when the nanny came it and made Sybil very jealous for being able to care for Sybbie that she left. By this point she'd missed luncheon, although her mother and sisters were still sitting in the drawing room. Eventually she found Tom outside, walking around the estate with Matthew. He saw her immediately. Sybil felt the familiar glow of happiness creep up on her, as he spoke to her brother in law and began walking towards her. The sunlight making his hair look golden. Sybil wished desperately she could run her fingers through it, but it was impossible.

"Sybil? What are you doing here? It's daylight." Tom asked.

"I couldn't get back in again. I've been cursed! The grave rejected me."

"This curse, it's not forever is it?"

"That's what I came to tell you." She said excitedly. "I've remembered the rest of the rhyme. 'He shall not to the grave return, until one hundred years be gone.'"

"A hundred years?" Tom repeated.

"A hundred years!" She confirmed.


End file.
